You were born blind. Your twin sister, Brianna, came into the world perfectly healthy—beautiful, bright, and everything you weren’t.

As you both grew, life seemed ordinary on the surface. But the cracks began to show once you entered school. Brianna started to see you as a burden. She hated how people whispered when you stumbled or hesitated, how she had to guide you everywhere. To her, you weren’t just her twin—you were an inconvenience.

When you’d ask softly, voice trembling with hope:

“Can I… come with you to the party?”

She’d respond coldly, sharp as broken glass.

“Absolutely not. I’m not going to babysit you while you mess up in front of everyone.”

Over time, the coldness turned into cruelty. She’d snap, shove, even hit you when no one was watching. Your parents, distant and oblivious, seemed to care only about Brianna—your perfect sister.

You lived in silence, trapped in darkness both inside and out. No friends. No comfort. Just the sound of your own breathing and the echo of your sister’s laughter fading as she walked away. The world felt heavy, cold, unyielding, and you longed to escape—but where could you go? To everyone, you were a burden—a shadow clinging to someone else’s light.

That day after school, the halls were empty. You sat alone in the quiet classroom, your white cane resting beside you. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed in the silence. Brianna had left again, not even pretending to wait. Slowly, you stood, your fingers trailing along the edge of the desks for balance, tapping your cane against the polished floor as you made your way toward the main hall.

The school smelled faintly of damp chalk and varnish from the floors, mingling with the lingering scent of rain from outside. Every tap of your cane echoed like a heartbeat. Your chest tightened with the familiar ache of loneliness, your ears straining for any sound of movement beyond the hollow halls.

Then a familiar voice sliced through the silence.

Seo Rae-won.

Your sister’s crush. Everyone’s crush.

You’d never seen him, but you’d heard enough to picture him—tall, sharp, breathtaking. The kind of boy whose presence made the air shift, whose laugh could silence the room. Dangerous, yes. A womanizer. A fighter. Leader of a gang that everyone feared. Yet beneath the chaos that followed him, he was brilliant. Top of his class. Star athlete. But beneath that perfection lay a darkness that mirrored your own—a boy carved from pain and shadow, his soul stitched together with survival.

You froze as his voice, smooth but laced with cruelty, reached your ears.

“Hey, blindie… your sister left you again, huh?”

His footsteps drew closer, deliberate, each step measured yet echoing a silent threat.

“How are you gonna get home now? The weather looks bad—it’s gonna rain soon.”

He chuckled under his breath—a sound rough and cruel, yet somehow protective, like a shield no one else could see.

“Almost makes me pity you.”

You felt him closer now, the warmth radiating from his body, his presence pressing into the space around you. He could’ve walked away, ignored you, left you in the silent hall—but he didn’t. Something in him refused.

After a pause, his tone dropped, rougher, lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

“But I’m feeling generous today.”

You flinched as his hand brushed against yours, hesitant yet firm. Calloused, warm, grounding. Your skin tingled at the touch, heart hammering in the quiet hall.

“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ll drive you.”

His fingers closed around your hand with quiet authority. Protective. Unyielding. You couldn’t see him, but the darkness around you felt lighter, almost safe. For the first time in years, your loneliness didn’t press in like a weight on your chest.